


Spoils of War

by Lucky_Meryl



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky_Meryl/pseuds/Lucky_Meryl
Summary: After years of denying each gift brought to his feet, Prince Roy accepted one less willing present. It was the only way he could save her, the blonde burning a fire within him. In return, perhaps she can save him as well. Medieval Royalty au.





	1. One last gift

Once upon a time in a land far far away... That's how these stories always begin, isn't it? A fantastical land of myth and magic, with evil queens and kings and stepmothers and stepsisters; knights in shining armor, and mystery women who run at the toll of midnight. 

This story however, was of a different kind of evil, a different fantasy, and a different reason to run. It's the story of a prince. From a young age, he grew used to stories of war. Knights told him of the men they'd defeated and the lands they'd conquered. They brought spoils of war to the young royal and his father, his mother long lost. He would be ordained in foreign cloth and jewels, gifted with horses and weaponry too large for a boy his size to wield with promises of future use as he grew.

Defeating his enemies, he learned, meant killing them. Spoils of war were stolen from those the knights killed or captured. The growing land under his father's control was soaked in blood. In his teens, as he was learning to use those weapons too large for his younger self, he began to imagine the steel dripping with blood, wondering whose hand the sword was torn from. The spoils of war no longer interested him. 

He turned away each gift brought by his knights. None of those stolen from the dead appeased him. His disdain, however, turned against him. His father made it a challenge to his military to bring his son a gift he would accept. Soon the gifts changed from material items, to irreplaceable and undesirable human tributes. 

One after another, a slave was pushed to the floor at his feet, the head of a nobleman laid bloody on the marble of the palace tiles, concubines were made from beautiful women from conquered lands, and each gift was once more turned away, more disdain in the prince's dark eyes than ever before. Each tribute to the young lord looked up at him, eyes filled with fear and grief, begging him to be kind and gentle, though not trusting anyone to be so.

Once more, his disdain backfired. It was soon discovered that each boy and girl he turned away, was enjoyed by the knights instead. They began choosing those of their own liking, instead of thinking of the prince, knowing that, in the end, they would be theirs to toy with. His stomach churned at the knowledge. He was damned either way, to own an unwilling slave, or to give another innocent life to the knights he once used to trust to protect his people. 

His father would have no say in this matter, he knew. His father, though not inherently an evil man, saw no reason to forbade the enslavement of those of lesser class. It was a tradition long practiced, after all. Speaking up on the idea would only show weakness and a lack of pride in such traditions of their country. No future leader should have such a soft heart to the lowly peasants and peons of the small outer villages. 

The only way to save the innocent captors, it seemed, would be taking their lives into his own hands. 

Once more, a dirty form was brought before him, dressed in whatever loose clothing he or she had. The prince wasn't entirely sure the gender of the new “gift.” The baggy clothing and short blonde hair gave nothing away. Eyes turned up as the stolen human was pushed to the ground. Brown eyes, narrowed in hatred, focused on the male. 

The face, he gathered, was nothing less than female. The fire in her eyes, was different than he'd ever seen. There was no fear in them, no grief. There was only anger, stubbornness, and a sense of pride he'd never seen in any other that had been brought before him. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, the male tilted his chin proudly, looking on at the knights before him with a firm glance. “I'll keep this one. And I'll have no other.” 

The armored form before him stood still, eyes widening slightly, surprised at the sudden change in his future leader's taste. “Are you positive, my lord? This one and no other? Surely you can't be satisfied with just one.”

Dark eyes settled on the noble before him. “You haven't brought me anything acceptable in years and yet now you think you know what will and will not satisfy me? How arrogant.” He crossed his arms, frowning as he repeated. “This one. And no other. Do not bring any more before me, nor shall you enjoy any more yourselves. Unless you have forgotten your oath of chivalry when you donned that armor.”

“No sir!” The answer was immediate. It was a new voice, hearing the prince order him so, but with the firmness in his command, the knight new it better than to argue.

A hearty laugh came from the prince's side. The King stood at his son's side, patting his back firmly. “You heard the boy. Get this girl to his room, cleaned up and presented like a gift should be.” He glanced down at the blonde. “Don't look so angry, girl, you will be serve Prince Roy. There are women and men who would kill for the chance to be at his side.”

Roy caught the woman's glance as his father spoke. She would kill if given the chance. Her eyes alone seemed to glare daggers into the prince's pale skin. As she was led away, to the baths and then to his room, it felt as though the room got cold with the absence of the fire inside her.

The conversation between his father and their military seemed to drag on, talks of the growing nation, the conflicts they could face, the taxes. None of it seemed to interest him, though he knew, as the future King, he should have paid attention. 

All he could think of was the girl waiting, forcibly, in his room. It was only a matter of time before he'd set her free, allowing her to run away as his key to ending the suffering of those captured by his men. Nevertheless, he was intrigued by her. She wasn't afraid of him. It was a new sensation. He hadn't lied when he said they'd finally brought him something, or someone, of interest to him. It was bittersweet that her presence would be short-lived. He knew, however, that a woman like that should never be kept in a cage.

His skin felt on edge as he made each step closer to his bedroom, knowing what would await him behind that door. What did the proud girl look like beneath the grime? He relieved the guards from his doors, seeing them smirk as he left, believing to know why he wanted his privacy. Each time he brought a woman to his room, though a willing partner all other times, he relieved the guards, allowing the woman to leave before the men returned in the morning. 

He knocked before entering, almost a foreign sensation seeing as though it was his own room. He waited, receiving no response before entering. There she sat, poised in the seat by his bed, firm glare still present on her pale face. Her mouth remained shut, hands in her lap, hidden in the frills of the dress that she looked so uncomfortable in, legs tucked beneath her, also unseen under the clothes she'd been presented in. 

Roy approached gently, sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a hand out to her. “My name is Roy Mustang.” He greeted, as if she wasn't already aware of the prince's identity. “May I know your name, miss?”

Her voice was rougher than her eyes. “You didn't need my name to claim me, why do you need it now?” She questioned, eyes firm on him.

He sighed, rubbing his neck as he diverted his eyes from her. “I know this might seem hard to believe, but I did this for your own good...” 

“My own good?” She laughed, a cold laugh that doused the fire he'd felt inside him. “You had me stolen from my home, dragged around on a leash, presented in front of you like cattle for market, and it was for my own good?” 

Roy winced, perhaps he wasn't as great with his words as a nobleman should have been. “I meant accepting you. I never requested them to do this, but it was better to accept you than to turn you away. So that they could have their way with you instead...”

“So I suppose being raped by the prince is supposed to be better than by a knight? I should be honored.” 

“No! That's not--” He groaned, losing his words before he could get them out. He was one of the most well taught men in the country, how was it that he could be so illiterate in this moment? “I never asked for them to capture any women or men. I hated that. I turned them all away but every time I did they would take it upon themselves to enjoy those I didn't want. I don't plan on doing anything to you.” 

“Then explain why you sent the guards away. Why you had your servants strip me dress me in this... this garbage...” She commented, tugging at the edge of her bodice. 

He couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped his lips. For anyone to call what she wore “garbage” would be a shock. She was wearing finery that even noble women couldn't afford. “It was just to prepare you for me. No one knows of my stance but--” His focus turned to her hands, bound together with rope at the wrist. “Who did that?”

“I was a threat. I fought them when they stripped me and they figured you were safer if I couldn't fight back.” She answered bluntly, eyes never looking away. 

“Let me remove them.” He spoke, reaching over to take hold of the bindings.

“I might hurt you.” She warned.

“Then I probably deserve it. Just try not to damage my face, okay?” His smile was amused, still enjoying this new trait in a woman he'd never seen before. He fought a little with the knots, but unwound the rope from her wrists, frowning at the marks left behind. As quickly as the frown had settled, however, one of her hands disappeared from his sight. He had no time to react before a closed fist collided against his jaw. 

Stunned momentarily, he slipped from the bed to the floor. Her legs lifted, barely slow enough for him to move out of the way as she brought them to her hands. More rope was wrapped around her ankles, causing a growl to slip past his lips. “Let me help you.” He said, ignoring the pain in his jaw. The binding fell to the floor as quickly as he'd tried to reach out to her ankles. Another jab, this time her foot to his chest, shoved him to the floor, knocking the wind from his lungs. “Dammit... will you stop for a second..?”

She didn't speak, simply ran to the window, pushing it open before standing in the opening. A gasp was heard as she looked down. Perhaps she didn't realize just how high up they were, just how long the fall would be if she decided to take that leap. There were no ledges to climb down, not balconies to aim for for a smaller series of jumps, just a stone wall down to the hard ground. The blonde turned to him again, watching him gather his bearings as he went to his feet. 

Roy watched the gears move in her mind, jump and die, stay and become his toy. His dark eyes widened, if that's what she thought, then her choice would be... “No!” 

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back roughly. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

Her body went stiff as she was torn from the window. Her eyes widened, and fighting against him suddenly. “Me? What the hell were you thinking!?” Shoving him away she backed away to the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. “You could have killed me! Were you trying to make me fall?”

“What?” Hesitating, letting his mind process what she said, he ran his hand through his messy hair. “Weren't you trying to... weren't you going to jump?”

She looked as if he'd just asked her what color the sky was, a deadpan expression over her eyes. “Jump to my death to avoid being attacked by a man I can clearly handle on my own? What sense would that make? I don't trust you, but you're clearly not a man worth killing myself to avoid...”

There was almost a pout on the prince's lips. She was unlike any other woman, but she had the ability to wound him just the same. “You don't trust me?” 

Her expression sharpened, furrowed brows pointed toward him from her corner. “What reason do I have to trust you?”

Roy gave her a cunning smile, the same that had most women's knees weakening throughout the kingdom. “What reason do you have not to?”

If possible, her eyes narrowed even more so. That passion in her eyes changed to something much stronger. He read that look with certainty, unsure if it made him more interested or afraid of her. She passionately, vehemently, truly, hated him.


	2. Trust

The young prince propped himself up on his bed, finally convinced the unwanted captive had given up on her dangerous attempts at escaping for the night. His new 'gift,' so to speak, sat on the floor where he left her, keeping his distance while holding a mirror to examine the bruising on his jaw. “I'm going to have to figure out how to hide this by morning...”

A huff came from the blonde as she curled her knees up, propping her arms loosely on top of them as she avoided looking at the other in the room. “Hate for the kingdom to know you got punched by a peasant woman?” She muttered.

“I'd hate for a young woman to be beheaded because of a bruise.” He corrected. His words held no venom in them, though he hoped, eventually, the young lady would come to find him as less despicable than other noblemen. With a sigh, he went to his feet, grabbing a pillow and the throw blanket at the end of the bed. “I'll get you suitable living quarters tomorrow. For now this will have to do.”

She reached over for the bedding, only for him to pull away. “What? Do I have to say please?”

Roy laughed gently. “No. This is for me. You take the bed. You're a lady, after all, you deserve better than a lounge.” He shook his head, amused at her ferocity as he laid the pillow out on the chaise. “Although telling me your name would definitely be appreciated.” 

The blonde stood, stepping away from him quietly as she made her way to the bed. He'd already proven that arguing did nothing. Besides, the idea of sleeping in a nice bed was appealing... What did it matter to her what discomfort came to the prince, after all? “Being free would also be appreciated.” She mumbled. She lifted a leg, attempting to climb onto the bed before placing it back down. She let out a deep breath before trying once more, only to fall into the seat he'd found her in before. “I can't get in the bed...”

He'd only just laid his jacket over the wardrobe when he turned, watching her dance beside his bed before giving up. “Is it... too tall?” He questioned, the answer suddenly dawning on him as she looked back to him. “You can't really move in all that, can you?” He nodded to her clothing, the ruffled skirt, the tight corset, the layers upon layers that most likely weighed her down from truly lifting herself onto the bed. 

“It's not a big deal.” 

He turned his head, scratching his neck gently. “I would call a maid in here to assist but, well... it's supposed to be my job to do such things today. Calling someone in would... well rumors could be the death of us...”

“Of me.” She corrected. “The death of me, you mean.”

He wanted to deny the claim, but it was more true than he was willing to admit aloud. “Let me help. Only out of the bodice and skirt.”

She had enough layers beneath the bindings to hide her body, though it would still be considered unseemly to be found in such a state with a man. “I'll hurt you if you try to go further.” She muttered, submitting if for no other reason than to get some well deserved sleep. 

Roy nodded, stepping over to her as she turned away. He could see the goosebumps rise on her neck as his hands went to help her from her gown. Each garment was laid carefully on the bed to their side, the petticoat and the farthingale soon joining the outer gown. What she was able to remove herself, he allowed her, not wanting to feel any more of her body than she was comfortable with allowing. At last they were to the bodice, the most binding of all she'd worn that night. Moreso than the ropes on her wrists or ankles, than the way they'd tied her up before dropping her to her knees on the palace floor, the strings pulled tightly behind her, sealing the boning of the contraption against her skin, forcing her bones into a shape they were never meant for, was the worst of all cages.

Her high neck smock hid her body from him, a realization he was glad for. The situation was uncomfortable enough as it was, especially for the woman he'd been assisting. Had she been in a lower smock, she'd have been revealing her collarbone and shoulder blades to him or the length of her leg where her stockings might have been held by garters beneath the lower hem. 

With each inch that was loosened from the bodice, he felt her ribs expand, lungs filling with air more with each breath. He'd always held pity for women who found it necessary to dress so painfully, wondering what was appealing about the idea of seeing a young lady faint from breathlessness due to fashion. As he slid the bodice gently over her shoulders, he watched her body relax slightly. “Thank you...” 

Roy couldn't help the small smile as he picked up the pile of garments from the bed. “You're welcome.” He said simply, numerous witty comments playing through his mind, though he refrained, for now. “Will you be able to sleep?”

As he turned to her, her hands were on her sides, gently rubbing as if to count if any of her ribs were broken. It wouldn't have been unheard of, especially if it had been her first time in a corset. Nevertheless, she nodded, still looking away from him. “I can sleep on the lounge. Now that I'm not in that... mess of a contraption you people call fashion.”

A warm laugh left his lips. “With as badly as you're hurting after that 'mess of a contraption' was peeled from your bones, I think you deserve the bed.” The young prince turned down the lamp, watching as she climbed into the bed before he settled himself on the chaise. As much as she was one to argue when it came to his chivalry, she gave in when it came to her comfort, it seemed. Or perhaps she was finally realizing that he would keep the distance he'd promised, and she had nothing to fear from him. 

Trust wasn't something he expected to gain. Not that night or any other. If she could at least feel safe, however, instead of feeling like a trapped bird, it would be enough for him. “I'm sorry.” His voice came from the corner of the room, his form hidden in the dimly lit room.

“I thought you said you didn't ask for this.” The woman replied, her voice as gentle as his for once. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I'm sorry you were stolen from your home. I'm sorry you were given to me like an object one could place value upon. I'm sorry for many things.” 

“You can't be sorry for the problems the world has, Prince. Sorry won't fix them. And I wasn't stolen. I was bought for you.” She corrected. “So at least that's a little guilt off your shoulders.”

“Bought? You were a servant?”

“I was a daughter.” She replied. “A daughter of an apothecary with large dreams and little funds. Taxes came due and past due. When it came to losing our home, his research, and his lab, he chose to lose me instead.” With a bitter laugh she added. “I'm the same value as a house, my lord. I'm quite the gift.”

His words were spoken around a frown, his expression heard in his voice. “You are much higher value. Humans... humans are not valued as things. No matter the ground on which they stand. Upon dirt or marble. Grass or stone. There is no cost high enough to be placed upon their heads, milady.”

Whether the shock on her face was true, or a trick of the dying light, he might have never known. Her voice was quiet as she turned, almost muffled by the sound of the bedding as it shifted. “Riza.” 

“I'm sorry?”

“My name. It's Riza Hawkeye.” 

The young prince smiled at that. “I've earned your name. Does that mean I have your trust and respect to go along with it?”

“Only the name. It was the least I could do after having you undress me.” There was a gentle laugh in her voice, quiet enough to have been missed if not for the way it caused the male's chest to clench. “You told me I wasn't yours... whose am I?” She asked, the smile in her words fading. “Who must I pay or appease for my freedom?”

Roy laid his dark head back, resting his hands over his chest. “You are your own.” He answered simply. “I'm going to get you out of here as soon as I can. As soon as I know you will be safe upon your leave. Please, miss Riza, be patient with me until then. I will get you your own living quarters. I will have them dress you as you deem appropriate. I will make this a life you can be content with at the very least. All I ask is that you are patient with me. I will set you free. I promise.”

The light of the lamp finally died out as the room went quiet. There was nothing more to be said. He wasn't sure if she'd trust his word. She was true before, what reason was there to trust him? Sure, he'd behaved thus far, but it wouldn't be unheard of for men to be so cunning as to trick women in such a way as to play the game as a kind heart, only to leave a broken soul upon the game's end. 

He hoped she'd hold him to that promise. Keep him at his word. He would do the best he could for her, just as he would as king. If he couldn't save a single girl from himself, what hope did he have for his own country?


	3. Ladies and Mothers

Roy tried to ignore the proud smiles from his guards come morning. The young woman in his bed hadn't fled before sunrise that time, even though she was the only woman who'd possibly had such reason to do so. Nevertheless, she'd stayed, and, to his relief, even seemed to sleep soundly through the night. 

“A chambermaid.” The male ordered, his voice low through the barely opened door to the young guard just outside. “Send a chambermaid with breakfast for the two of us.”

The other looked at him, meaning well before speaking. “Surely she would prefer the company of her own stature, my lord. As would you...” The young guard knew his place, though also knew the placement of servants and slaves that had been placed upon the hierarchy of society. “Your father will be expecting you, won't he?”

Roy almost pitied the boy. He obviously hadn't been around long enough to be aware of the way his young prince behaved. With a simple chuckle, he replied. “And he can continue to expect me. Please retrieve a chambermaid with breakfast.” He repeated.

With a nod and a clammer of his armor, the male turned away, taking his order with no further question. Roy turned back into the room, eyes directing to the shifting form in his bed. “Good morning.” He offered, a smile forming on his lips as she sat up, revealing the mess her short blonde locks had twisted into throughout the night.

Riza greeted him with a yawn and a wave. Her newfound calm was surprising. After a single night's sleep, she was relaxed enough to greet him at all without attack. The change made him wonder just how long her previous days had been, and how long it had been since she didn't have to be on edge.

“I've called for breakfast. While you dress, I will go and discuss your room.”

“You're leaving?” She asked quietly, tired brown eyes turned to him. “What if I run away?”

Roy paused, seeming to consider this for a moment. “I suppose there are a few outcomes in that scenario. You could escape and be free. Or you could be caught and be brought back to me.” He commented, “or someone could steal you away. I'd rather that not happen, miss Riza.” The smile he gave her was kind and warm. “Please wait on your escape until I can guarantee your freedom and your safety. And as selfish as my request may be, I'm begging you, don't give them a reason to drop more lives at my feet...”  
she nodded, turning her head away from him. “You're kind.” She commented. “You're a naive fool, but you are kind.”  
He laughed gently at that, hearing a soft knock on the door before commenting to her. “I'll take that as a compliment.” Roy opened the door before pasting on his charming smile. “Vanessa!”

A young chambermaid, still in her late teens with light brown hair and gray blue eyes, gave the male a soft smile. “My prince,” She greeted, bowing her head gently. “I've brought breakfast for you and your guest.” 

“Thank you, milady, for coming with such haste.”

“I'm no lady sir.” She corrected, laughing gently. “I'm just a chambermaid.” For the prince to even acknowledge her, let alone call her by name, would be enough to stun most people, but this seemed like a daily routine between Roy and his help. Their place in the world, and where he decided to place him in his world.

“With a face like that,” he teased, “perhaps you are a princess...”

The young woman laughed. “My lord, you are as strange as ever.” With that, she slipped past him, wheeling a small cart before her. 

“I'm afraid I'll be skipping breakfast today, miss Vanessa.”

Riza looked at him then. “You're not eating?”

“I'm a prince. I eat all the time. One missed meal won't kill me.” He joked, patting his stomach, as fit as he was, with a smile. “But I thank you for your concern.” He added. “Enjoy it for me, Miss Vanessa, as well as Miss Riza's company.”

Vanessa simply nodded, placing the meals on the small table near the window. Riza had begun to see, now, that the maid was used to his usual strangeness. “Say hello to the Madam for me.” Vanessa commented, earning another smile from Roy.

He nodded gently, turning the same warmth to Riza. “You can trust Vanessa. More so than you can apparently trust me.”

The blonde couldn't help the way her eyes rolled above her amused smile. “I'll take your word for it. But that's not saying much considering I still don't trust you.”  
“Probably a good idea.” He responded with a laugh before bowing his head. “Good day, ladies.”  
\---

“You can't save everyone, Roy.” A middle-aged woman, hair and eyes a perfect match for the prince's own, tapped her pipe clean against the rail of her balcony. “You are a prince, not a god.”

Roy frowned, leaning on the same rail, eyes turned to the other. “But if I can save even one, at least I've tried. If I can...”

“Then you must...” The woman finished. “You certainly get your selflessness from your mother.” She commented. “It's a shame she was married off to my brother. He never deserved her.”

Even for the king's own sister, the way she spoke could have been reason enough for strict punishment by the courts. Had she been in other company, that is. Her nephew, however, was more like her son than her brothers. It was that trust between them that brought Roy to Madame's side time and time again.

“I'll let Vanessa and Rebecca take care of her. If you want this charade to work long enough to give people a chance to take their eyes off of you, you'll have to bring her in your room a few more times.” The prince nodded, mentally noting the wisdom his aunt had to offer. “If they believe you've grown tired of her, they'll bring you someone new. It doesn't matter what you said yesterday, your father will think the same thing. But, if they believe you are growing too fond of her, they will make her disappear.”

Roy's eyes widened at that. He hadn't thought about the idea of growing too close to her in the eyes of those around him. She wasn't of noble blood. If she were to come between him and any future betrothal, the king would have the threat removed by any means necessary.

“It's a thin lines you'll be treading in this role, nephew.”

“Yes ma'am.” He nodded. “I'll be careful. For both our sakes.”

“I know you will.” The Madame lit her pipe, taking a soft puff of smoke into her lungs. “I'll have her assigned as a chambermaid--”

“Mine.” He interrupted. “She will be my personal chambermaid. If anyone asks it's because I want to get a good look at her every day. She is supposed to belong to me, after all. They'll think she is cleaning up the messes she helps create. But that she is also low enough to clean my room and serve me.”

“That would work.” Another puff of smoke left her lips. “Your new chamber maid. What is her name?”

“Riza Hawkeye.”

“Elizabeth.” She corrected. “Her name is now Elizabeth to anyone who asks. I'm going to do a little digging into that apothecary father of hers. I'd appreciate it if there weren't other noses in my hunting.”

“Why are you...”

“I'm an old unmarried woman with nothing to do but smoke and drink. Chalk it up to boredom.”

The prince shook his head, smiling softly, but inquired no further on the subject before allowing their conversation to wind down, bidding farewell to his second mother before making his exit.

His mother, his true mother's memory still hung on the Madam's wall. A beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair just like his. Unliek Roy and his father, however, her eyes were a crystal blue. The painting did them no justice, he thought. No color in the world could match the color of his mother's shade of blue.

When sickness took her, and her white skin began to fade to gray, her hair, once a shining obsidian, dulled like old coal, but her eyes never faded. They were as brilliant as the day he was born and first looked into them. They held all the love in the world.

Roy couldn't blame the artist for his inability to capture that. How does one capture love on canvas, after all? What paint existed to even try?


	4. A Month

“A month.” 

The dark haired man turned his eyes from his desk to the blonde in the room. He'd been so caught up with the papers on his desk that he hadn't even heard the woman enter. “A month?”

“That's how long you've kept me here.” She explained. Despite the conversation, she never turned to him. Instead, she did her duties as his maid; changing the bedding and collecting the dishes from the most recent meal he'd enjoyed at his desk. “You told me you'd let me go.”

Roy laid his quill down gently, sighing tiredly. The duties of a prince, it seemed, piled higher each day. He'd stop enjoying the company of others in the dining hall for dinner, and instead chose to retreate to his room. He'd made a promise, however, and she'd been patient. The murmurs about the newcomer in the prince's chambers had died down after a week or so, but his worries, as well as his other duties, kept him from following through on his word.

“You're right.” Pushing himself from the desk, he stretched his stiff muscles, cracking his knuckles. “I'll get you out of here. I'm sorry it's taken so long.”

The way her brown eyes widened told him she didn't expect him to follow through so easily. A pang of guilt shot through him for losinghimself so deeply in his work that he'd left her to clean his messes and she'd waited patiently for him to release her. “Tomorrow.” He told her. “I'll take you back to your village or anywhere else if you prefer.

“With the right company guarding me, you can slip away unnoticed, and you will be free. So where is it you'd like to go, Miss Riza?”

Her new name, Elizabeth, was used by everyone but him. He'd explained the importance to her of keeping under the title until her freedom. No one would search for her by a name they did not know, after all. Roy, however, never seemed able to stick to the rule unless under prying eyes and listening ears. In private, she was Miss Riza, and she'd never once corrected him.

“Home.” She answered, simply. “I need to check on my father.”

His dark eyes narrowed, a mixture of confusion and something else, almost like anger, flickered through them. “Your father who sold you. Who is the reason you're here in the first place.”

“The only father I have.” She answered, simply. She turned away once again, focusing on her duties as chambermaid. “Though it doesn't seem like this was the worst place he could have sold me to.”

“But it could have been.” He mumbled. “You could have been taken by the knights. They would have used you and never let you go.”

“But I wasn't. If I'm not mistaken, it was you who made sure that didn't happen. And for that, I'm grateful. However, there is no poing in being angry about what could have happened.”

There was an unprincely huff that came from the male. “What if he sells you again? Or someone comes to take you back?”

“Then I'll be sold or I'll come back.” She told him. “Coming back here would be the least of my problems. I have to admit, cleaning up after a spoiled prince in exchange for hot meals, a warm bed, and access to a bath is a pretty nice deal.” She laughed. It was a rare sound to his ears, but it was just infectious enough to rid the male of the angry look on his face, only to be replaced by a soft expression of concern.

“If it's not that bad then why don't you just stay?” The question came out quietly, a half-hearted request he didn't consider before it slipped from his lips. 

Riza frowned. He wasn't entirely sure how to read her expression. Disappointment, perhaps? “Because he's my father.”

Her answer didn't sit well with him. Instead of complaining further, however, he simply turned back to his work. “Tomorrow.” He repeated, the softness in his voice replaced by an almost cold formality. “I'll take you home.”

“Thank you, my lord.” 

The way she addressed him made him wince, but he said nothing, hearing her exit the room as his quill scratched along paper.

“You look tired.” The blonde greeted, following alongside the prince on the way to the stables. 

She wasn't wrong. After an early breakfast with a side of scolding from his father, not to mention the late night worries for the other's safety, his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. “I'm fine.” He told her, “Thank you for your concern, Elizabeth.” Outside his chambers, even seemingly alone, he reminded himself of the name to use. “Can you ride?”

She nodded, stepping into the stable. “Though coming back with a riderless horse will draw attention, won't it?”

“I won't be coming back with one.” He commented simply. “She will be yours.” He lifted a saddle onto a brown house, a white diamond of fur decorated her face. “Her name is Lieutenant. She's a good horse. Though, not my personal one. She's one of many unclaimed extra horses, but she deserves the attention of a kind owner.”

“Thank you.” He expected an argument, but was gratefully surprised. “I'll treat her well.”

“Thank you.”

“Your highness!” A young boy, shocked and disheveled, dropped pails of feed to his side, almost toppling to the side before he caught them, bowing deeply. “Your highness, I'm sorry. I prepared Colonel, I wasn't aware you wished to take another for your ride this afternoon.” The stableboy bowed once more, shoveling the small bit of food from the ground back into the pail from which it fell. 

“You weren't mistaken.” Roy corrected. “Don't worry. I was only bringing Lieutenant along for miss Elizabeth.”

“I could've--” 

“I'm perfectly capable of saddling a horse. Thank you.” He chuckled gently. “The others are ready for the lunch you brought them, though. Continue where you left off.” Roy nodded respectfully in passing as he led the mare from the stables, his guest following beside him.

Only one of Roy's guards joined them. A stocky male with a face more serious than his nature rode to the prince's side. According to Roy, he was aware of the purpose of their day trip, but without any guard at all, the entire army would be on the hunt for the runaway royalty. Even in the company of his friend, however, she was still Elizabeth.

Once outside the city, the men allowed Riza to take the lead. “Do you know the way from here?” The prince asked. “I doubt you had the chance to look around on your way in.”

She nodded. “I've traveled to the city before.” She answered. “You don't need to follow along from here. Thank you.”

There was almost a sad smile that painted itself on Roy's lips. “What kind of hero would I be if I didn't see you home safely, my damsel in distress?” He teased, half-heartedly.

Riza chuckled gently. “What kind of damsel in distress punches her hero on the day they first meet?”

“My favorite kind.” He admitted. “Thank you for putting me in my place, but please let me escort you a bit further.”

There was a deep breath drawn, the faintest of colors distracting the young prince as they spread across the woman's cheeks. “Fine.” She said. “A bit further.”

There was a small smile on the guards lips, but not a word was said as they went. It was a omstly quiet trip, the three of them only breaking the silence for offhanded comments about the weather and the crops they'd passed. Roy kept his cloak, a plain dark brown fabric, pulled over his head, stating it was to protect his porcelain skin, though Hans, the young guard, corrected that it was to draw less attention. A couple of hours after their exit from the city, they saw a bustling village before them.

“That's it.” She told them. “Thank you, again, for the escort.”

Roy bowed his head, Hans following suit behind him. The prince reached over from his horse, a black stallion, and scratched the mare behind her ear gently. “Treat her well, Lieutenant.” 

The blonde smiled. “I will do the same for her. Though I can't promise it will live up to a royal stable.”  
With a small smile he shook his head. “She's a simple horse. The love and attention is all she needs. Royalty was just where she was placed.” Roy heard the fading steps of Hans' horse as he trotted back, giving the two of them the privacy for a proper farewell. “Thank you for being patient with me. And thank you for your time, Miss Riza.”

“It wasn't as though it was given by choice.” She commented. It might've been meant as a joke, the prince wasn't sure, but she continued. “Thank you for giving my time back. And thank you for making the time pass... pleasantly. Perhaps too quickly as pleasant as it was.”

“You can always come back.” He almost pleaded. He wasn't even sure why his voice sounded so desperate. In the month they'd met, they'd spent a few nights alone, talking about where she grew up, the life he lived as a child, sometimes simple things like how their day had went when they were trying to keep suspicions low. They'd never spoken too deeply, however. They'd never gotten so close that he should want more, but perhaps that was his regret, after all. 

“You know that's not true.”

“I don't.”

“You don't want to.” She said, firmly. “You don't want to believe this is goodbye, but it is. Thank you for a month I'll never forget. It was a the best gift I never asked for. And thank you for bringing me back home.”

“Thank you...” He mumbled. He wasn't sure what he was thankful for, but it didn't feel right not to say it. “Thank you, Miss Riza.”

She didn't ask why, perhaps she knew what he didn't. “Goodbye, Roy.”

As she rode away, he couldn't help but wonder if he should have been different. Should he have kept her? Should he have never let her go? His name fell from her lips leaving more excitement in him than the fine silk placed before him at twelve-years-old, and more pain than when he'd first fallen from his horse at eight. How bitter it was that he'd never hear that sound again. All because he let her go.

His world felt colder without her. He couldn't figure out if it was that cold before she was brought to him, or if she'd simply left it colder than she'd found it.   
With a deep breath, the prince lifted his head, turning to his guard, nodding quietly before they began their journey back.   
Three years time was all it took for the forever that wedged between them to come to an end. In three years time, she'd be back at his feet, hair how past her shoulders, eyes as fierce as he'd first seen, and his skin warmed once more in her presence.


	5. Stay

“Miss Elizabeth.” Several moment had passed before Roy was able to gather his thoughts. “You're here by choice.” The surprise was evident in his voice.

A gentle nod of her head and she stood to her feet. “Yes, your highness. If I may have a moment of your time. I came to speak to you about the recent goings-on in my town. If I could, I'd prefer to speak to you in private.”

The knights simply stared at their lord, ready to escort the woman out given the order. Instead, Roy lifted his hand, waving his company from the room. The chair where his father once sat, was empty, as he'd grown used to. “A private audience with the prince,” he teased, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

Her brown eyes narrowed, the same way as when he first saw her. “Cut the crap.” She growled. “I want to know how much higher you plan on raising our taxes. It's a miracle I've not had to sell my horse to keep my home. As empty as it may be, I quite enjoy having four walls and a roof to come to after work.”

“Taxes...” His smile faded. “I don't remember the last time I raised taxes... over a year ago, perhaps? Before my father got sick.”

“Then why have they been raised again less than six months ago?” She questioned. “Why are your men knocking on our doors asking for more and more?”

“I don't know...” He admitted. “Six months ago my father was already ill. He's been bedridden ever since. I'm sure you've heard.”

“I have. It's why I knew I could come to you.” She crossed her arms, focusing firmly on the prince before her. “It's been three years and you still have no handle on your army, do you?”

With a sigh, he dropped his head. “I will send the gold back.” He said, “And any belongings taken will be properly compensated for.”

“And the knights who steal in your name?”

“Will be brought back to be replaced by better men.”

“Brought back?” she asked. “Not punished?”

“It's not my place to—”

“You are in charge in your father's stead, are you not? Then the whole country is your responsibility. It is your place to do as you damn well please, and to do what needs to be done.”

It was hard to keep from chuckling at her words. No one spoke to him in that manner, after all. It was a fresh experiences to be scolded in such a way. “You're right. So what would you have me do? Behead them? Surely that can be avoided.”

“I was thinking a fine and stripping their ranks.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Avoiding such harsh punishment is probably best for your image at the moment.” She joked.

“My image.” He huffed. “I see nothing wrong with my image.”

“Of course you don't. Your father is a harsh king. A king who conquers unwilling lands and sticks to intimidation to hold his power. You are a soft prince who cannot control his country. People are worried about the start of your reign.”

“They are?” A frown painted itself across his lips. “So what do I do, Miss Riza?”

“You meet in the middle. You need a firm hand and a gentle heart. Right now, you only have one.” She bowed gently before him. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

“I owe you much more than a meeting, don't I?” He offered, smiling warmly. “It's late. Surely you don't plan on heading back tonight.”

“I can't stay.” There was a familiar sadness on her face.

“Your father...”

“Passed away last fall.” She avoided his eyes. “But I can't afford an inn.”

He dropped his head, expression falling behind dark hair. “I'm sorry for your loss.” Despite the disdain he held for the man whom he'd never met, the sadness in the woman's eyes was enough to make him regret his passing. “I wouldn't ask you to stay at an inn, Miss Riza. You always have a room here.” Before she could argue, he continued, “And Lieutenant is surely tired.” The furrowing of her brows pulled a smile to his face once more. She had no more complaint.

“Thank you, my lord.” She said, a slight bitterness to her voice. “I'll take her to the stables. My room...”

“The same one.” He answered. “Do you remember the way?”

She nodded. “I told you I wouldn't forget.”

His smile widened. “Can I join you for dinner?”

“If you like.” With that, she turned to leave, passing by the guards and nobles as they filed back into the room.

The prince's voice immediately hardened as he spoke to those before him, instructing them to find out who the culprits are that are stealing from his people, ordering back those designated to areas of distress. He wasted no time cleaning up the mess brought to his attention.

In the month she'd stayed before, Roy learned she preferred eating away from the others, in the privacy of her own room. He knocked gently on the door, waiting patiently for her to greet him. Her appearance upon this meeting was much cleaner than the first. When she stepped into the great hall, in men's pants and shirt, her face was clear of dirt, hair shining behind her shoulders. He wasn't surprised, however, that she'd chosen to take advantage of the facilities by way of a hot bath before dinner.

Unlike her shorter haircut before, the longer blonde locks did not dry as quickly. Wet strands soaked the shoulders of her shirt, revealing a vague view of her skin through the material. With a forced blink, Roy was able to pull his eyes to hers, holding up a tray in one hand. “Dinner.”

Riza pulled thin robe over her back before turning, motioning to the cafe table by the window. “Thank you.”

He set the tray down, clearing his throat before speaking. “I want to thank you for your advice earlier.”

“It was a request for my village. Not advice.”

“I meant about my public image and the way I rule.” He explained. “My father's adviser is quick to punish harshly for crimes by the peasants and weakly to the nobles. It's unfair, and knowing I'm not the only one who sees it as the cruelty it is was reassuring...My father wasn't always so easily swayed. When my mother was alive, she was more of an adviser than any appointed official could ever hope to be.”

“I've heard stories of the queen. I hate to say that I don't remember her life well. We were still part of the neighboring kingdom, and I was very young when she passed.” She explained. “But I've been told she was beautiful. Even the blind could see her beauty, they said.”

A warm smile crept across the male's lips. “Thank you. I'm still sorry for your father. Your mother, is she gone as well?”

She nodded. “When I was nine. My father lost himself in his work after that.”

“As an apothecary.” He commented. “That's what he did, right? He made medicine?”

“Yes. He was working on quicker ways to heal open wounds. If someone were cut deep enough that it would be considered a mortal wound, he wanted to find a way to stop the bleeding and to save them.”

“Did he do it?”

She nodded once more, slowly. “He did. He found that by burning a wound, the bleeding would stop. It scarred terribly... but it could save a life. The best way to control the process was with cast iron. Like for branding cattle... for lack of better explanation.”

“The pain...” he started, the wonder in his eyes dying at the thought. “It would be...”

“The cost of living,” she interrupted, hardened brown eyes looking on him, “isn't cheap. But you do what you have to do to keep breathing.”  
With a sigh he nodded his head in agreement. She was right. Her levelheadedness was astounding, if not intimidating. “His research? Did he have an assistant to pass on his findings?”

“I suppose I'd be the closest thing to such a title. Though I've got no interest in medicine, I'll pass his work along to those who do.”

“Why not start here? Some of the best physicians around are just a call away in case my family needs them. They teach and they heal. It might be the best place to spread the word.”

“I didn't come here to take advantage of your connections.”

“I'm asking you to.”

She sighed heavily, submitting to the idea. “It makes the most sense.” She admitted. “Thank you...”

There was a soft smile on his lips as a silence grew between them. “I've missed you.”

Her eyes were avoiding his once more. “You barely know me.”

“That changes nothing. I've missed you. And I enjoy having you back.”

“For one night.” She reminded him.

“It doesn't have to be one night. You can stay.” His dark eyes focused on her, willing her to look at him, but to no avail. “Excuse my callousness, Miss Riza, but you don't have to go back... he's gone.” He saw her brows furrow beneath her bangs. “You can stay here... as--”

“As your maid.” She finished.

“As my adviser” At last, quiet and stunned, she looked at him, eyes wide. “No one would ever be so honest with me as you. You will put your foot down and argue with me when the rest of the world is too afraid to step out of line. You can help me become the leader the people need. You are the one I need by my side to change the world.”

“You're serious.” She almost whispered. “I could be using you... it's an advantageous position, you know.”

“But you wouldn't be. You will keep me on the right path for this country.” He leaned his chin into his hand. “Become my adviser Lead me in leading the country, Miss Riza.”

“You're sure.” She didn't need an answer. His expression gave it away. “Your adviser” She repeated, “I can do that.” Her words came out slowly. “But my father's research comes first.”

“Okay.” It was a struggle to keep the prince's emotions in check. His smile, however, remained firm. “Lady Hawkeye. It will be an honor to work with you.”

She chuckled lightly. “You never intended on letting me go, did you?”

“I fully intended to.” He corrected. “I just never wanted to... you're the best gift I've ever been given, after all.”


	6. I'll Follow You

Roy was still in shock when he headed to the great hall. She'd accepted his proposal. Riza would be his advisor in all things to do with the kingdom. The only stipulation was that spreading her father's research came first. He understood immediately. He had a meeting set the next day with the highest scholars and most well known physicians in the city. Their apprentices sat at their sides, quietly listening to the woman's explaination along with their teachers, waiting for their opinions to be made for them.

The prince slipped in quietly, listening to the words fall from the woman's lips with grace, despite the scrutiny that came from the eyes of her audience.

“You expect us to burn the living to keep them from dying.” A bearded man spoke first. Roy recognized him as the doctor living in the castle while treating his father. He was a well respected man, but he was stern in his practice. “They'd _wish_ they were dead in that sort of pain.”

The blonde never lost her calm. Riza simply shook her head. “There's a certain amount of pain a human body can stand, then it goes into a state of shock and--”

“I'm aware of the body's own defences.” He interrupted. “People die from burns, miss Hawkeye. They don't live with their help.”

“If you'll just read over the research. The subject studied still lives. They are able to resume a normal life thanks to the bleeding being stopped.”

“This subject,” it was a slightly younger man who spoke this time. Balding with a slight lazy eye, though his good eye was looking down at the papers in front of him instead of at the woman before him. “I'm aware that they lived. But these wounds could have been sewn. He chose to burn them close simply to test his theory. It was cruel. The other subjects were animals, which he removed limbs from just to burn the stubs. Your father was truly a dark man, Miss Hawkeye.”

“My father was a well respected scholar much like the rest of you.”

“Your father--”

“He hurt animals and healed them. But just as the notes show, those animals were as good as dead from infection due to the wounds in those limbs. He did not simply chop up living creatures to suit his research.” She corrected, brows narrowed. The fire in her voice began to take over the room as Roy soaked it in. It was that adament form that knew he'd made the right decision.

“And this human subject? Why did he choose to burn them instead of sew them? Surely the scars--”

“They are the cost of living. The test subject was aware of the risks and the pain. They subjected to the treatment when asked.”

“And what pain did they feel? Were you there? Do you know?” A large woman leaned forward in her seat. She seemed to be the most interested in the group on how the studies went. She'd listened carefully to each word spoken. “How was the poor subject able to stand it?”

Riza took a breath before speaking. “They screamed around the wooden spoon they were given to bite down on. But the bleeding stopped quickly. The scarring was intense. The pain was moreso, but they lived. They were bleeding too quickly for stitches to have been possible. ”

“They were still at risk for infection after this new technique, weren't they?”

“Any wound is at risk for infection. But cleaning a closed wound over time is much safer than trying to suture such a large wound in such a short time as to save the subjects life. You are all aware how quickly someone can die from blood loss. How many patients have you lost? How many could have been saved by going through this technique. Yes there will be lots of pain, and it will have to be cleaned well, but they will live.”

The room was silent for a few moments. Riza stood confidently in the center of them all, awaiting their next statement. Finally, the bearded man, the King's doctor, spoke. “This wouldn't be a first resort. Or even a second.”

“No sir. This would be only for dire situations.”

He nodded slowly. “I think I'd like to look over this more. Perhaps my own research would be in order. I hope you understand. I can't simply trust a dead man's notes. I need to see this for myself.” She nodded before he continued. “I think this could be a valuable practice, even if not used often. Hunting wounds are common in court. War wounds are common on the field. We've lost many due to sutures not being enough. Tournequets, too, are only so effective.”

“I thank you for your consideration, sir.” Her shoulders were back, but a breath left her chest she seemed to have been holding the whole time.

“And I thank you for your information.” He replied. “I'll keep these copies, if you don't mind. We'll have them bound for the records. You have the originals.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Hawkeye. I will continue this discussion with the others. Thank you for your time and for your father's work. He was once a well respected scholar, you are right. Though you must understand our hesitation.”

“I do. Thank you.” She bowed her head politely, picking up her own copies before thanking the others for their time as well. Roy watched her leave, stepping out behind her as quietly as he'd entered. She didn't even seem to notice him standing near the door when she passed.

“You did well.”

She didn't jump at his sudden comment, but turned to him. “It wasn't the easiest thing to explain. I'm not my father and I'm not a doctor. I just hope his notes speak better than I did.”

He chuckled softly. “Don't be down on yourself. You spoke wonderfully. That confidence is what we need in this court, after all, Miss Riza.”

Habitually, her hand went to push her bangs from her face, a deep breath entering her lungs. “I hope you can still say that after you've officially assigned me to your side.”

“Lady Hawkeye will be just as reliable as Miss Riza. I'm sure of it. I trust you.”

“That could be dangerous, you know. Trusting a village girl with a bad attitude.”

He laughed again. “I'm sure. I hope you'll advise me against it in the future. Though if you poison me, I'm sure I wasn't a suitable leader for this country. You will be so close as to get that chance. Though I don't believe it will come to that as long as I don't go astray.”

Her eyes widened. “You could have me killed by even suggesting I could do that.”

“I don't want you to let a corrupt man sit on that throne. I want you to want the best for this country. I told you, I trust you. I trust you to help me lead the kingdom, and if I stop being the prince, or the king this country needs, I expect you to do something about it.” He made sure to keep her attention as he spoke, eyes locked to hers. Every word was an oath. “Do you still want the position?”

Riza never looked away. His dark eyes and his firm words kept her still. At his question, she nodded. A firm expression on her face, “I do. But don't get confused. I will advise, but you will lead.” She told him. “You will lead this country, and I'll follow you wherever that path may lead.”

He smiled at that. Her affirmation was all he needed, and he knew he'd never have to ask again. “May I join you for dinner?”

She took a deep breath, the fire in her eyes clouded for a brief moment. “Yes. There's something I wanted to tell you. So I'd like that.”

His mind wandered throughout his lessons. He'd lost almost each fencing match, thinking about what she could want to tell him. In private, no less. It wouldn't be some girlish confession of love, he knew. It wasn't in her to do such a thing. He wouldn't even know how to respond to it. She was right in the idea that he barely knew her. It didn't stop the pounding in his chest to know that, nevertheless, but even so, she was to be his advisor. Being also his lover was not an option.

Her past with him, the alleged affair they shared years before, while he slept on a couch at night and she kept her distance. Few knew how well played an act it was. That alone would be hard to erase once he'd announced her, but he'd find a way. As long as their 'affair' was over, he could find a way to make it right.

He stepped to her door, a tray in hand as he knocked. No one questioned the prince's urge to carry the two meals himself anymore. Riza said nothing as she opened the door, motioning him to come inside. He stepped again to the familiar cafe table, setting the tray down quietly. “You had something to tell me?” He was right to the point, curiosity throbbing in his mind like a migraine.

“It's not really dinner conversation. If you wanted to wait until afterward...” She offered. It was an unspoken request for time.

He nodded, lifting the lid from their meals. “Then dinner first.” He smiled, assisting her to her seat politely, pushing the chair in behind her. “They have already decided on studying further into your father's research. They will be testing it in a future hunt.”

“I'm glad.” Her voice was quiet. Neither of them spoke afterwards. The only sound breaking the air in the room was the moving of silverware. Her food moved back and forth, but little left her plate.

Roy finally spoke up, his stomach seemingly smaller from the foreign tension between them. “Miss Riza? What is it you wanted to tell me?”

She stopped moving, setting down her fork before looking up at him. “I was the human subject.” She said it simply enough, never beating around the bush. “For my father's research, I was the test subject for his burn technique.”

His blood ran cold. The screams she described before, biting down on wood, scarring... Riza was describing herself. “You... you chose that instead of stitches?”

“I chose the entirety of the experiment...he presented the option to me. To help him with his final test as he requested.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “He asked you that... the entirety of the experiment. Riza.” there was no title added, but his voice was firm. She never let her eyes wander from his as he continued. “What was the cause of the wound he treated?”

“A scalpal.” She swallowed thickly. “The wound was created cleanly to prevent infection...”

Roy stood quickly, looking down to her. “He cut you open to burn you closed?” His voice was hard. “He made you--”

“He asked me. I consented.”

“He shouldn't have even asked you.” He growled. “What father asks that of his only child?”

She was quiet at that. Her chair slid backwards as she stood. “They are going to ask about the scarring. When you go hunting, when your men go to war... I want you to know how the injuries look.” She told him, for once, her eyes avoided his. “I want to show you the last test. I trust you will tell no one who you saw this from.”

His heart shook. He wasn't sure he was ready to see it, but he didn't want to let her down. The anger in him was washed away by pity. “Don't.” She told him, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don't look at me like a wounded pet, please. I chose this.”

The prince nodded, taking another breath. “Okay.” He trusted her with his life, and with his throne. Returning that trust... he couldn't deny her that.

Roy knew that seeing it would hurt him. He knew he'd hate her father more than he ever had for defacing her back the way he had after getting her back home. She chose to return to him after he sold her. She chose to care for him. And she chose to accept his offer. He was the only parent she had, and she was willing to do anything for him, until his last days. He fought the pity he felt inside, with the hatred that burned inside him.

As she turned away from him, untying her robe, his heart lurched. He wasn't ready. He knew he wasn't. He knew she wasn't. However, they both bared through it. She lowered the sleeves of her robe to her waist, using one hand to hold the robe from falling further, and the other to cover her front after pulling her hair over her shoulder.

There was a line running diagonally from her right shoulder blade, to the top of her left hip. The deep scar was broken through the middle, an ugly red scar blotched across her spine. The burn covered all but a few inches on either end of the cut across her back.

She shivered at the cold in the room, waiting for anything to break the silence as she stood. Several moments passed, Roy standing in awe at the woman before him. She'd withstood so much pain... he'd never been more awestruck by her. Her will was stronger than any he'd ever witnessed, and she bore her back to him, trusting him with the image before him.

Riza had dressed before speaking again. “I told you not to look at me with pity.” She told him.

“I don't pity you. I respect your decisions and I can't do that with pity.” He told her. “I'm angry with him. I hate what he did to you. No matter the respect I have for his research. No matter how valuable this... this sacrifice was... I hate him for it.” She was silent once more before he continued. “But you, Riza... I'm amazed by you.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Lady Riza Hawkeye was a name thrown from mouth to mouth among the castle. A village girl made adviser by recommendation of the prince himself. The current king's adviser was strictly against it. Never had there been a female, let alone a villager to advise the royal family. The role should be given to someone _experienced_ , he suggested. Someone _educated_.

“Education is nothing to concern yourself with. Her father was a scholar of his own right. She has been well taught by him.” Roy told him. “And how is someone to get experience without being tried for it?” No matter the argument, the prince's word was final. Despite the whispers and allegations, that she'd slept her way to his side among other rumors, including wild accusations of witchcraft and sorcery, she was his hand. Riza was his trusted assistant from then on.

The blonde never let the rumors bother her. She'd already heard so many during her first stay in the castle, these were the same, only louder. Whatever was said, however, she followed her prince, idly behind in wherever he went, sure to be there when he needed her. In the times that he didn't, during his fighting lessons, or when he was being fitted for new clothes, she was on the archery field.

“You're quite the shot.”

The arrow left her fingers without hesitation, despite the sudden interruption. “Most people simply wonder what a woman is doing here.” She commented, turning to the man behind her. He was around Roy's age, though his facial hair aged him a bit in comparison to the princes younger features. He pushed his glasses up before holding out a hand to her.

“Maes Hughes. It's an honor to meet you Lady Hawkeye. I've heard quite a lot about you from the prince.”

Firmly, she took his hand. “I wish I could say the same for you, sir.”

“I'm a friend of his. A knight, but I don't get assigned to him very often. We tend to get into quite a bit of trouble when left alone for too long.” He told her with a laugh. “We've been friends since we were kids. Learned swordsmanship together.”

“I see. I didn't see you the last time...”

“I was assigned away.” He explained. “But I got letters about the angry woman from the village. He might be smitten with you, my dear.” There was a large grin on his face. “Perhaps you'll go from lady to princess one day.”

Her only reaction was a roll of her eyes. This man, she assumed, was surely insane. How he made knighthood, she'd never know. “Is there something I can help you with Lord Hughes?”

“Oh no, no. I just came for a bit of practice, myself. I figured I'd get to know the new adviser while I was at it.” Instead of an arrow and bow, the man simply stood before a table of knives. “So how did you get so good at shooting?” He asked, picking up a knife carefully. With grace, the blade slipped from his fingers, speeding across to the target, hitting dead center.

“I hunted.” She said simply. “I suppose you were taught?”

The knight laughed, smiling at her. “It's not all natural talent, you're right.” Another blade left his hand, and another landed near the center of the target. “So what are your plans with the prince?” He asked finally. The smile had faded then, eyes focused solely on the target before him. “What will you be advising?”

So this was what he was after. He wanted to know what devilish plans the woman had up her sleeve. “Exactly what he asked of me. How to lead this country with the support of its people.” There was nothing for her to hide. No reason to lie about their goal.

“A king doesn't need support to rule.” He stated simply.

“No. But I didn't say to rule. I said to lead.”

The final dagger slipped from his fingers, knocking one of the centered weapons before clamoring to the dirt. “Bullseye.” He smiled once more, a firm grin as he faced her. “Teach him to lead. Keep pushing him forward. I'm trusting you with him, Lady Hawkeye.”

\---

“I'm afraid his health is only declining. My Lord, you need to visit with him, he's your father.”

“I know that...” Roy was quiet, weighing his options. His father was dying. There was no avoiding that. Not even Riza knew just how badly his status had fallen. The throne would be calling for him before he was ready, and he'd have lost both his parents on top of that. “I know...” He repeated, as if trying to convince himself.

The prince hadn't been in his father's chambers in weeks. The sight of a man who once held such an air of dignity and strength, lying unshaven and weak in his bed, sent a chill. It reminded him of his mother and how tired she looked near the end. The role of the king would be falling in his lap much sooner than anticipated. Realistically, he knew that. There was no point, he thought, in lying to himself.

“Roy.”

His aunt's voice broke him from his thoughts. He turned to her, strength like a mask over his features. “Yes, madam?”

She took his hand gently in her own. “I'll go in with you, if you'd like.”

It was the same offer as when he was a child. And just as before, he declined. “I'm okay.”

The door seemed to slam loudly shut behind him, despite how gently he'd pushed it. The deathly silence in the room was broken by his footsteps across the floor. “How are you feeling, Father?”

There was a tired laugh from the pile of blankets. Roy stepped closer, finally seeing the dying king hidden among them. “A little tired is all. They say I'll get some rest soon.” He said simply. Again, there was no reason to beat around the bush.

The prince took a seat at his father's side. “I don't know if I'm ready.”

A cold hand covered his. “I wasn't when I took the throne. And I think I did alright.” Roy didn't want to disagree. His father was unfair, and harsh, however the kingdom, he'd admit, was prosperous. “You will learn in your own way, just as you did to find your adviser”

“You've heard about that...” Roy looked away, for the first time nervous of another's opinion on the matter.

“The whole castle has heard.” The king laughed gently. “It's an odd choice. You could have kept the current adviser, or chosen from any scholar in the kingdom. Why her? The woman you were given three years ago, right?”

Roy nodded. “Because she is different. We are a strong country, and the nobles are loyal to the thrown, but not our people. Our farmers and craftsmen, we need their support as well.”

There was a tired smile on the man's face as his son spoke. “She's got you under her thumb.” Roy wanted to argue, but his father cut him off. “You're the one who is different. You care about lives most find insignificant. You always have.” He patted the prince's hand before bringing his own back to his side. “I'm trusting you with our country. Do you trust her?”

“I do. She represents more of this country than any nobleman.”

“Then I'll trust your decision.” He took a deep breath. “It will be difficult for both of you when you fall in love with her.” He warned. The idea had been tossed around in the rumors, always brushed off by both Roy and his aid. Coming from his father, however...

“In love?” There was a fever that rushed to the prince's cheeks. “I don't...”

“Not yet, maybe. But I'm not worried. After all, your mother lead me better than any other. Hopefully you can find the same faith in her.”

“But I... she...” Roy was speechless. It was true that the blonde was beautiful, and he cared deeply for her. He never wanted to let her go before, and was grateful for each moment with her since she'd returned. But did that mean he'd fall in love with her?

“Whatever happens, Roy, you have my blessing.”

Roy swallowed his embarrassment in that moment, nodding. “Thank you, father.” Riza was simply his adviser, he told himself, but his father's blessing was appreciated nonetheless.

Over an hour passed between the two of them. They reminisced about his mother and his childhood—the fits he pitched, his firs achievements and anything else they could think of. As his father began to doze off, his heart sank. Roy watched his chest rise and fall, as if already anticipating his last breath.

Finally satisfied, convinced his father would life through another night, he stood, late for his meeting with Lady Hawkeye, he was sure.

His feet moved slowly down the hall, heart sinking with each step. “Sorry I'm late, milady.” He greeted, a small smile on his face.

“I met a friend of yours today.” She was turned away from him, glancing over the paperwork on his desk. “He is an odd man named Maes Hughes. He...My lord?”

Roy wasn't aware of any expression on his face that could have given himself away. Not a single tear had fallen, but as she turned to him her face fell. “My father is dying.” He said it aloud. What no one was willing to voice so plainly fell from his lips with a heavy breath.

She didn't like his father. He knew that. Riza saw him as cruel and brutish. He never anticipated any sympathy. However, she was never one to act in a way that he could ever anticipate. He felt her hand on his cheek and his eyes widened. “I'm so sorry, Roy.”

His name. She was not Lady Hawkeye in that moment. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck, she was Riza. His friend. And he'd done exactly as his father warned him. He'd fallen in love with her.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was only two weeks later that the king passed away. The funeral was filled with nobles from all over the kingdom; men who'd benefitted from years of war and expansion by the king's hand. On the streets, however, life went on. Men and women ran their shops, whispering about the prince soon to take the throne. With the pressure of the public weighing heavily on his shoulders, Roy relied more than ever on his trusted adviser.

“You will be crowned next week.” The blonde reminded him. It wasn't as though he could have possibly forgotten, but he'd had so much else on his mind. “The people need you to be strong. They need you focused.” She told him.

The prince nodded tiredly, reading over the same page of the newest proposition for law that had landed on his desk. His brows furrowed as he took in the words scribbled along the paper. “Who submitted this?”

“I believe it was the late king's adviser.” She wasn't looking toward him, instead Riza was reading over another stack of papers at her end of the desk. She only glanced up at him when she heard his chair slide back against the floor. “My lord?”

“I'd like to discuss this with him personally.” He stopped her from standing, raising a hand gently. “I can handle this alone, Milady. Continue working, please.” For once he was grateful for her silence, as she turned back to the pages in her hand and he slipped out the door.

The previous adviser, an older noble scholar with long gray hair, hid away in his chambers. Roy's knock on the door was quickly answered with a stumbling man, disheveled in the doorway. “My lord. I was just packing my things. No reason for this old man to stick around anymore, I suppose.” The bitterness in his voice was not missed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Roy stepped forward, inviting himself into the mess of trunks and bags being stuffed full of the finer luxuries that the man had been able to endulge in throughout his years. The other man removed himself from the prince's path as he entered, backing up, almost tripping over his own belongings in the process. “I came to discuss with you the proposal that came to my attention.” The younger man explained. “I thought maybe you could help explain this.”

There was a smug grin that fell upon the nobleman's lips. “I'm sorry that Lady Hawkeye wasn't able to properly review this with you, your highness. I'd be happy to be of assistance.”

“Lady Hawkeye is not of concern.” Roy told him, a harsher bite than he meant to expose in the statement. “This is the proposal that a king must have a queen of noble blood. That nobility must marry nobility.” His dark eyes were firm on the man before him. “Since when did we allow such a discriminatory class system within the courts?”

The smile dropped from the other's expression. “This wasn't only a proposal of my making, sire.” He explained. “It was brought to me by concern of the other members of the court. Your outreach to the common people, making one of them into your advisor at that... it's concerning.”

“So you will make a low that effects the affects the entirety of the court because of your concern over my own relationships?”

“Not the entire court, sire, Knights are free to marry as they please.”

“This will not come to pass.” The prince stated, firmly. “Not by my hand.”

“Sire, I must warn you...going against the grain when it comes to members of the court can result in losing their support. The common people may outnumber us, but they don't have the funds to run this country. You need our support.” He bowed, leaning low before the future king. “Perhaps a law is too much, but please...consider it my last piece of advice that I offer to the throne.”

\---

“He might be right, you know.” The bespectacled knight lifted a drink to his lips, setting his glass back down before continuing. “You don't want support from one class over another, anyways, but from the whole country. That's what she's pushing for, too, isn't it?”

Roy nodded, looking into his own glass of ale. “I haven't even told her my feelings and already we're doomed.”

“That's assuming she'd even return your affections in the first place.” At his friend's glare, Maes couldn't help but laught. “I'm only joking. Who could turn down a king, anyways?”

There was a light chuckle as the prince thought it over. “She could. With ease.” He commented. “But there's no point in trying, now.”

“Plenty of kings have mistresses.”

“No.” His voice was firm, almost offended by the proposition. “She'd kill me for even suggesting it.”

“You really do love her, don't you? Over all the women you've known?”

“I've known none since she returned.” He admitted. There was a gentle smile on his lips he couldn't rid himself of when thinking of her. Since she'd returned, she'd been by his side, faithfully assisting him in anything she could. Even if he didn't ask, she was there. She read him like a book, bringing him water when he didn't even realize he was thirsty, calling for lunch before he knew he was hungry. She knew him better than he even knew himself.

There was a hard slap that landed on the prince's back, causing him to choke on his drink as his friend laughed. “The womanizing prinec has finally grown up and met a woman. I knew it'd happen eventually. Gracia doubted you. Thought you'd end up in an arranged marriage.” He teased. Any excuse to bring up his wife, really. Roy was surprised it'd taken so long into their conversation to do so.

“I still might.” He reminded his friend. “The court won't stand for my being with her. And she's more valuable than a mistress. I want all of her, or I want her to be with someone who can.”

The knight frowned, taking another drink as they fell briefly into silence. After a moment passed, he finally spoke. “Maybe you can get the court to like her. Or approve of her, at least.”

Roy shrugged. “I'm not sure how I can do that. They've already made up their minds.”

“By following her advice. Let the country see how valuable she is to us.”

“I planned to do that anyways. But I could credit her more. Let them realize all she is doing.” He nodded him to herself. “She is nobility now. I've given her that place. Her bloodline has nothing to do with that and I'll make sure they realize it.”

\---

“Lady Hawkeye has advised me...” These words began one announcement after another. It was days before his coronation, and all he'd been able to tell the court was what Lady Hawkeye had advised. His smile was proud, despite the glare that could have burned holes into the back of his robes. It wasn't until he turned to meet those sharp brown eyes that his heart fell to his stomach.

She was mad. He'd angered her. Roy couldn't imagine just what she was going to do, or say once they were away from the grand hall and the crowd. Nevertheless, he exited, allowing her to fall in step behind him. An apology was ready on his lips before she cut him off.

“What in the hell was that?” She was close, eyes focused on his, nose just inches from his own. Any other time, the proximity would have been welcome. The fire in her eyes, burning him from the inside, however, caused him to recoil from her presence. “What were you trying to accomplish with that performance?”

Roy was taken aback by her aggression. “I was just trying to give you a little more credit for all of your hard work.”

“For playing you like a puppet? Because that's how they see me, now.”

“No, no. I just wanted them to see how great of a job you're doing, that's all.”

“They will know that based on how well you do yours. I don't need you to give me credit on all these ideas. Many of which, mind you, were yours.”

He frowned. Roy couldn't recall the last time he'd been scolded, but he'd never felt so small from another's words in his life. “I was just trying to make them see that you are fit for the job. I was trying to get them to like you. Is that so bad?”

Riza sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why do I care if they like me?” She mumbled. “I'm _your_ adviser. My job is to make _you_ look good. My own reputation is irrelevant.”

Roy fell into a chair, deflated by her words more than she could possibly know. Now more than ever he wondered what the point was in even trying. Even if they could be together, she clearly didn't want to. “I'm sorry.” He said softly.

“It's okay.” Her voice had fallen to a calmer tone, her anger subsiding. “Thank you for your concern, sire.”

He laughed. “Most people would never get away with talking to royalty like that.”

The blonde gifted him with a smile, infectious as it crept on his own lips. “With all due respect, your highness, I'm not most people.”

“You're certainly not.” He told her, laughing softly. “People are put on trial for much less.”

The playfulness in her eyes caught his breath. “Try me.” She teased.

There was a trust between them, he realized. She was allowed to show him all the fire within her. She could scold him without reprimand and he could revel in her warmth. He was able to be weak and foolish with her. They were simply themselves together. Their relationship, in a word, was honest.

“You're too valuable to try.” He told her. “I'll just have to deal with getting yelled at.” He laughed, once more, still smiling up to her. “You really aren't like most people.”

The blonde chuckled softly. “And if I have my way,” she told him, “you won't be like most kings.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Roy wasn't sure how long it would take before his father's throne and crown would feel like his own. The seat felt too large, and the crown far too heavy upon his head. The moment it was placed, all eyes in the kingdom landing on him, he felt he'd sink into the marble beneath his feet. Nevertheless, he held himself high, withstanding the weight with all the strength he could muster.

The crowd of people at his feet, bowing to their new king, included some of the most well known figures in the kingdom, as well as those from allied neighboring countries. Dukes and duchesses, even other kings, bringing along princesses to, hopefully, strengthen the relationship between their countries. He met with each of them politely shaking their hands, smiling his warm smile.

In the mist of it all, he'd lost track of his adviser. He searched for the head of blond hair among the mass of people, begging for their chance to congratulate the young king, throwing their names into his good graces. It was unfortunate for them, however, that their names would be quickly forgotten as he continue sifting through the crowd.

As the afternoon wound to a close, the newly crowned king had given up his search, submitting to the celebratory greetings of his visitors. Roy counted his blessings as his night and friend came to his side, escorting him away from the coronation ceremony and out of the main hall. “I'm so glad I could kiss you...” He mumbled, smiling as he made his exit.

“That'd be a sight.” Maes laughed, his expression lost beneath his helmet. “As if the country didn't have enough to talk about. They are already making bets on the next queen.”

Roy rolled his eyes, releasing a breath as the doors closed behind him. “I've met so many women today whose father's were practically pushing them into my bed, I'm not sure there won't be at least three waiting for me in my chambers.”

“That doesn't seem like something to complain about.” The knight chuckled. “Unless you had a woman like Gracia waiting on you at home.” He added, the smile, though not visible through his armor, heard through his voice. “Or maybe a Hawkeye.”

A halfhearted glare fell to the king's eyes as he dropped into a chair. “I'm not even sure she was at the coronation. Maybe it's about time the pressure of all this actually ran her off, after all.”

“You really think she's that easy to scare away, Roy?”

The young lord chuckled lightly. “Not a chance. Though, I do wonder where she went.”

“The coronation ball is tonight. Maybe she's getting all dolled up for you.”

Roy shook his head. “A pleasant thought, but also unlikely.” He mumbled. “I only hope she'll be there to distract me from all the hopeful young ladies.”

With a pat on his friend's back, Maes pushed the king to his feet. “You should be getting ready as well. No time for pining and hoping, your majesty.”

 

The young king couldn't have prepared himself for the number of dancers pushed into his arms. Each shy young noblewoman, stepping with the music, eyed him with blind affection, falling for his warm smiles and honey-sweet words. It was unfortunate for each young maiden, however, that his eyes were filtering through the dancers, even scanning the back walls, for a familiar head of blonde hair.

The night was halfway over, and his feet stung from the steps he'd made with each over willing partner on the ballroom floor. He'd given up on finding her, eyes now vaguely taking in the redhead that stared at her own feet while she danced.

“King Roy?”

He did all he could to hide the sigh of relief in his voice as the dance with the redhead came to a halt. “Lady Owens, please excuse me.” He let go of the young lady's hand as he spoke, watching her bow politely before turning to his aunt. “Madam, have you come to ask me to dance?” He mused.

“No. Of course not. I'm worth more than a dance with a cocky young king. I only came to present you with a gift.” With a hand on his back, she pushed him towards the wall, through the crowd. “I hope you enjoy it. It wasn't easy.”

He laughed, moving as directed. “Of course I will.” As he slipped from the mass of dancing couples, he realized how true his words were as his eyes landed on his “gift.”

Blonde hair was pinned neatly at the sides, but the length of it cascaded over the adviser's shoulders. Her gold strands accented the emerald fabric of her dress, fitting close to her form over the bodice, and a high collar covering the back of her neck. “It seems...” he started, his voice soft and low as he stepped forward, “that you've been given to me once again.”

Riza laughed lightly. “It would appear so.

He held his hand out to her, feet aching for one more dance. “I hope you came to me willingly this time.”

She placed her palm in his, fingers wrapping gently around as he led her away from the shadows. “I won't be punching you this time, at least. Although, I still feel like I'm bound in this clothing your aunt put me in.”

His free hand went to her waist, hers to his shoulder. “Perhaps you'd allow me to unbind you again?”

Her brown eyes set him aflame as they met his. He felt as though he'd lose his footing in her sly smile. “And perhaps I'll take back what I said about punching you, sire.”

The pain in his feet had faded as he moved in time with her, enjoying her snide remarks and playful smiles as they talked. She'd been at the coronation, and was swept away by his aunt while he was accepting his greetings. Placing her in her dress and having her perfectly preened for the ball seemed to be an all evening affair. Roy questioned why she even agreed to it, but she didn't really have an answer. “If this was what you wanted, it'd be all I could give. I'm a noble in name only, and only by your doing. That doesn't mean I have the money to buy you anything in celebration.”

He pulled her closer, too close for the eyes of their company, he was sure. “This is perfect. Thank you, but I hope you aren't too uncomfortable.” He added, gently. “I'd much prefer you comfortable than unable to breathe, milady.”

“I'm breathing fine, my king.” It wasn't until the title slipped from her lips that he at last felt pride in it. Her king... it was all he needed to hear.

His smile widened as he turned them to the music. The onlookers were lost to him as his eyes locked onto the girl in his arms. “I danced too long before you got here.” He told her, gently.

“I advise you take a break then.” The blonde teased, stopping with him in the middle of the ballroom floor. “I do have a gift for you...besides this.”

His hand left her hip, but the other kept her hand, leading her now off the dance floor once more. “Oh? And where is it?” His voice was light and gentle. He was as tired as he was excited after the day's events, and it was beginning to show.

“Call the evening to a close, your majesty.” She told him, taking her hand from his at last. “And I'll bring it to your chambers.” Her voice was quiet, whispering the words like a secret.

She disappeared once more, then, leaving him light-hearted and drunk on her words. With a bright smile, he stood at his throne, calling the party-goers to attention. His 'goodnight' was short and sweet, but poised and polite. The knights took their places, ushering all the men and women from the ballroom, Maes taking his place by Roy's side to escort him away from the final attempts of those trying to win the king's favor.

Roy was silent as he walked at his friend's side, but he couldn't tear the smile from his lips. As they stepped to the hall to his room, Maes gave him a pat on the back. “Congratulations. Enjoy your evening, sire.” There was a laugh to his voice that couldn't be ignored, but Roy let it pass, simply nodding his head in thanks as he walked to his chambers.

His room was empty, much to his disappointment, but he took the time to take off his coat, laying on the back of a chair. He considered removing his boots, or even his shirt, leaving him in just his undershirt, but chose against it. He set the crown on his dresser, hoping the title would stay with it when she finally arrived.

“Your majesty.” She spoke instead of knocked, and he felt his nerves turn to ice. She'd come to his chambers. She'd dressed up for him and she had a gift for him.

With a deep breath he went for the door, smiling at the woman who waited for him. She'd abandoned the corset for a robe, hair now completely loose down her back. She'd pulled her robe tightly around her, as if the chill of the hallway could be kept out. “Come in.” He invited, trying not to pull her in on his own. He held the door, watching as she passed him by, closing the door behind her. The brunette stepped towards her, watching as her face lit up by the fireplace. “So you brought my gift...”

Riza nodded gently, turning to him. “It's not much. Not even sure you'll want it...” She started slowly, looking away from him.

“I want it.” His hand pulled her chin up as he moved in closer. There was nothing he wanted more than the woman who'd brought herself to his chambers. He leaned in, taking her lips with his slowly, his free hand finding her hip. Her hand went to his, and her slow response caused him to freeze, knowing he'd read the situation wrong. Just as he started to pull away, however, he felt her step against him, pressing up into the kiss.

She'd given him all the invitation he'd needed. His hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her to him as he let his mouth explore hers. Feeling her tongue against his was more than he could bear, as he moaned low into her. He pulled from her lips to trail his down her jawline, kissing and nipping a line to her ear. “Sire...” Her voice was breathless, and her one hand still held his.

“Mm-mm...” He mumbled in disagreement as he gently bit her ear. “My name, Riza...”

“Roy...” She let her other hand slip into his hair, stepping back gently, pulling him with her. “It's... a bad idea...” She warned, but did nothing to stop his attack on her neck, or his hands leading her to the bed. “We shouldn't.” She said again, but fell against the blankets as her robe slipped open.

He couldn't help but laugh against her as he pushed her up on the bed, easing her sleeves from her shoulders, untying the back of her gown with nimble hands. “You give wonderful advice...” He purred, kissing her once more. “I'm glad I hired you...” As he pulled away, he met her eyes, cupping her face in one hand, supporting himself over her with the other. “I know we shouldn't. I know it's a bad idea, but, Riza...” He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closing as if he were pleading gently. “If I said I loved you, would you allow it?”

Her arms draped themselves over his neck, her lips pressing to his softly. “Yes, my king.” She whispered. “I am yours.”

 

 


End file.
